


Where time and paths converge

by CastielsCarma



Series: Destiel FanFiction Bingo 2018 [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Canon Divergent, Episode: s14e12 Prophet and Loss, M/M, Priest!Dean, Rebirth, Reincarnation, Wing Kink, astral planes, just a smidge, these two just wanted to talk apparently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 10:07:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17660738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsCarma/pseuds/CastielsCarma
Summary: Just at Dean Winchester, a priest in a small village prepares his last task before succumbing to sleep, the familiar sound of wings can be heard inside his cabin. This is the night when Castiel, Angel of the Lord has come to say his goodbyes, but not before giving Dean one last gift.





	Where time and paths converge

**Author's Note:**

> This is my 10th contribution to the Destiel Fanfiction Bingo. My prompt was wing kink. My theme for this piece was: Medieval. Hope you enjoy!

The sputtering tallow candles chased away some of the shadows inside Dean Winchester's small cabin but he still had to squint as he was writing down the passing days' events. The sun was down, and the familiar darkness beckoned him to bed. Stifling a yawn, he finished the sentence he was writing.

Dean was used to the smoke and smell from the candles although his wrinkled nose tried to convince him otherwise. Exhaling deeply, he rubbed a hand over tired eyes. Putting down the quill carefully, he ran a hand through his short brown hair. The motion always made him smile; the extra coin to the Church was well worth it as long as he could keep his hair. With age, it would falter anyway so Dean didn't see the necessity to urge that along. That was really the only vanity he permitted himself, that and eating fish on Fridays but he could hardly call tradition a vanity. Tradition was a word that had lost its meaning quite some time back.

Lyall MacCloud had visited him again, seeking his spiritual guidance. Those visitations had become so frequent that Dean now was clear in his suspicions of what she was really hoping for. Dean sighed. Not that Lyall wasn't pleasing to the eye, even though she did have red hair, it was just that his inclinations lay elsewhere and having her as a hearth woman would... complicate matters. His heart belonged elsewhere.

Getting up, Dean unwrapped his belt, letting his alb flow freely. A diet of barley, vegetables, and bread hadn't made him round, but of late the belt felt restrictive and suffocating nonetheless. His right hand went, seemingly without conscious thought to the simple wooden cross hanging around his neck. Dean hesitated to call the cross heavy but of late that was just what it had become. His thumb caressed the smooth wood as his mind recited, _Oh most merciful Lord, grant to me Your grace -_

The silence was interrupted by the faint sound of whooshing wings. Even though his presence was familiar to Dean by now he still had trouble turning around, an overwhelming need to kneel down instead coming over him. 

“You don't need to kneel down, Dean.” The deep timbre of the man's voice, made Dean turn his lips upwards in a soft smile.

His hair was dark and cut short in an odd, unruly way but stranger still was his clothes. Briefs cut in a strange fashion, a long jacket made from cotton he said but still unfamiliar to the touch and buttons that were not wood or metal but something else entirely and with peculiar holes in them. A small string of cloth hung from his neck; a sight which had made Dean uncomfortable in the beginning, reminding him too much of a hangman's noose. His shoes were equally strange, too thin and narrow to be called comfortable Dean had decided on a first and second glance.

“Apologies, Castiel. It's an impulse that is hard to abstain from. You are an angel of the Lord.”

Castiel smiled and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tightly. 

Dean got up from the floor, making his way over to a small barrel but Castiel stopped him. 

“I thank you, Dean but there is no need for nourishment either. It seems it's been long since my last visit.”

Nodding for himself, Dean glanced at Castiel before sitting down on a bench. The angel joined him and together they sat there for a while in silence. Being near Castiel was the closest Dean could come to be with the actual Lord himself, at least in this lifetime. He was a man of the clergy, even if his parish mostly consisted of farm-folk, their children and elders. 

Tentatively, Dean reached across and grabbed Castiel's hand. It was rough and callous, and all too familiar. He felt Castiel squeeze it; it was a comforting feeling. 

“May I?” Castiel's right arm was extended, his fingers tentatively hovering near his forehead. 

When Dean nodded, he felt Castiel's fingers gently press against his skin and a familiar warmth washed over him. Closing his eyes, Dean was lost in the sensation, the warmth spreading through him. It came like a grounding from the floor, spearing through him and rising up like the Holy Spirit, leaving a wisp of light behind that continued to surge throughout his body, through all extremities, balancing the four humors. He knew Castiel had told him once there was much more to it than that, but Dean was content to think of it in a way that he knew of. These meetings with Castiel were already too much, and yet not enough.

“You didn't need to. I'm free of all ailments, I think.” 

Castiel tone was grave. “The bubonic plague is at your doorstep, Dean.”

The wooden cross shook as Dean laughed. “I'm well aware, but it's in God's hands.” His smile faltered as he glanced at Castiel. His eyes seemed as before, but Dean noticed a subtle difference. Dean knew his thought had to be faulty, to think that Castiel, an angel, looked tired.

“What's the matter?” He didn't want to disturb this peace that was over them but he knew that there was something on Castiel's mind.

“Do you miss Ceonred? I know it's an odd question since...” Cas stopped talking and flashed him a smile that made Dean's heart clench.

Dean sat with that question, giving it purposeful thought. “I do. With him everything was effortless.”

“And yet you still have faith? Despite everything that happened?” Cas looked at him intently, curious about his answer. 

“I think you know my answer. I do have faith. A different kind of faith, but it's faith nonetheless.”

Castiel let go of his hand, only to stroke his cheek. “That's why I've always loved you, Dean. Your soul shines bright, more brilliant than the sun itself.”

Dean leaned into Castiel's touch, closing his eyes. “Sometimes I just want to lash though, and allow wrath to consume me. It's all false words. The Church doesn't know what they – “

“Look at me, Dean.” 

After taking a deep breath, Dean opened his eyes, looking into Castiel's blue eyes, holding more secrets than the deepest oceans. 

“Your faith has been unwavering, even before meeting Ceonred... and me. We are the same, him and I. I'm just further along the path.”

“You do seem more... at ease.”

Castiel chuckled. “I don't think that would be a word Dean would apply to me right now. And my image of myself back then was grand and incomplete. A clean observant being. I knew how to choose my names.”

“You've come to say goodbye, have you not?”

Castiel nodded. “I have. My mind will be pre-occupied and I just wanted to bring you, and my self some solace I guess, to remember the tapestry of life and the notion that all will be well in the end.”

“And see me before my death?” Dean bit his lip, looking at Castiel. 

“Yes. I don't know the exact time frame, it is a construct after all, but I think this will be our last time together. I could come back to you _before_ but then we'd have to reacquaint ourselves with each other and there is no certainty the end-results would be the same.” 

Dean had stopped asking certain questions. Castiel had tried to explain the concept of the soul and what he called rebirth which in itself had made Dean ill at ease, he was a priest after all and the thought of more outcomes and the _uncertainty_ of everything made Dean uncomfortable. When Castiel had started to pick at time itself, Dean had simply nodded and asked Castiel to keep it simple and humble. 

Fumbling with his cross, Dean breathed a soft sigh. “I'm glad you came one more time, Castiel.”

“Me too.” He spoke those words with gravity, imbuing them with sincerity and after a short pause, Castiel continued. “I have this for you. I wanted to bring something that would seem inconspicuous but coming from my world, that is a challenge. I hope this will bring you some joy.” Cas opened his jacket and brought out a heavy bundle, thrusting it into Dean' arms.

Dean unwrapped the package and examined one of the pale candles. “They are beautiful.”

“They are fashioned out of beeswax, so you'll be able to write without odor and smoke. And I have one more gift for you.”

Grabbing Castiel's hand, Dean shook his head. “No more gifts are necessary. You being in my life Castiel has been gift enough.”

Clearing his throat, Castiel smiled. “Of course. It's been a great honor getting to know you too, Dean. I would never fail to recognize the brilliance that you are.”

A great honor. Ceonred had said the same words as he departed from this life. Noticing the wick climbing further down, Dean got up from the bench, clutching a candle in hand. Grabbing a pair of round scissors, he cut the wick with care and let the beeswax candle catch the flame. It burned bright and clean and Dean blew out the other one, replacing it with Castiel's in the candle holder.

“I do think you will find the experience of my gift to be unparalleled.” Castiel smiled his gummy smile and Dean couldn't help the corner of his own lips lift up in amusement. That visage had always been his failing.

Intrigued by his words, Dean finally acquiesced with a nod of his head. 

Castiel pursed his lips as he looked around in Dean's simple cottage, taking note of the walls and the height of the roof. 

“This will not work. I will take us somewhere else.”

Hearing Castiel's words gave Dean pause. “What is this gift you speak of? I am of no import, you are an angel of the _Lord_ , Castiel. I wouldn't want you to use your magick – ”

A raised hand stopped Dean as Castiel approached him. “Close your eyes. Do you trust me?” 

“I have faith in you, Castiel,” came Dean's soft reply. A light touch on his forehead as Castiel pressed his finger against his skin, and the world transformed. The pressure against his body was so great that Dean thought he'd surely be undone. The sun had descended, taking residence in his body and as Dean inhaled the whole world around him became fire, disintegrating thought, and consciousnesses and burying him in all-consuming light.

Exhaling, Dean opened his eyes, surprised to find himself standing in an expansive wheat-field, the golden color spreading as far as he could see over the rolling hills. The sun was high up in the sky, and a light breeze was blowing, ruffling the wheat and making them sway like waves on an ocean.

“Where is this place?”

“The wheat-fields of Palouse in Washington State, quite far away in the future. We will be undisturbed since this is a projection; technically we are in the astral plane right now, shielded in an orb of my own consciousnesses.”

Dean didn't understand much of what Castiel was telling him but he was an angel and Dean's faith in him was unwavering. Castiel would never harm him. 

Turning his head towards Castiel's' voice he let out a gasp. Castiel's coat had been discarded somewhere as were his other attire, leaving him only in his briefs. His skin was paler than Ceonred's, untouched as it was by the sun's kisses but beautiful all the same.

As Dean laid eyes on Castiel's wings spreading out behind him, he was overcome with emotion. Black feathers loomed above and around him and as Castiel shifted his weight the sunlight refracting on his feathers, streaks of blue, cerulean and violet, shimmered.

Suddenly Castiel was there, right in front of Dean. Even the sheer splendor of his wings couldn't keep Dean from looking into Castiel's eyes, so familiar and yet unknown. Dean let out a genuine laugh, almost forgotten since the days Ceonred had left him and touched the outer hard edge on Castiel's right wing.

“Impressive, I gather?” Castiel said, humor evident as he spoke.

Something shifted at the corner of Dean's eye and as he looked down, his hand searched for the cross in comfort. “Cas, your feathers...” he whispered. 

The black feathers further down seemed to give way to what appeared to be jagged dark minerals, spreading out in a circular pattern, only to disappear in a vortex of black, shimmering fog. The minerals flickered in and out of existence before Dean's eyes. It was as if the very act of paying them attention made them elusive, and as Dean tentatively reached out a hand to touch this peculiar part of Castiel's wings he could hear a weak humming noise. 

The low sound beat in rhythm to Dean's own heart and it was as if the very earth his feet were planted on pulsated in union to this otherworldly music. Dean had the strangest desire to just sit down and weep with gratitude.

“On the plane of Foresight and Remembrance, they are as in your scripture; all-seeing eyes and I would appear as burning wheels swirling. I thought this vision would be more prudent.”

Dean just hummed, his hand retracting along with the sound of the music. Fingers touched soft, yet coarse black feathers. Castiel twitched, a slight movement of body that Dean noticed, his movements suddenly hesitant. 

“You are not hurting me, Dean. I _am_ born of celestial intent after all. It's a pleasant feeling to stretch them out from time to time. I spend most of my time on Earth, so opportunities are scarce.”

“You shouldn't conceal such beauty, Castiel. Surely God's other angels must be envious of you.”

Castiel smiled wryly at that. “I don't think envious is a word that comes to mind when my brothers and sisters think of me, Dean.”

Continuing his exploration, Dean caressed the softness of Castiel's wings, the true miracle standing before him. His fingers dug in deeper, and as he touched the feathers tucked in closer to Castiel's body, along his rib cage, Castiel shivered. Looking down, Dean noticed goose flesh appear on the angel's arms, and a small content sigh escaped him. 

Dean's hand went further up, fingers stroking the long black feathers. They appeared to be more sturdy and as Dean lay a hand and pressed on the feathers, he could hear a faint moan escape Castiel, his exhale harsh and quick. This seemed to be a sensitive spot. Revelation hit Dean, and he dropped his hand, unsure if he should continue with his caresses. A warm breeze hit him as Castiel flapped his wings once as if to shake off the sensations.

“Apologies, Castiel. I never meant for you to feel... uncomfortable.”

Clearing his throat, Castiel grabbed Dean's hand. “Oh, this was not uncomfortable in the slightest. I should have foreseen your willingness to touch. A certain part of my wings are sensitive...”

Dean's thumb worked over Castiel's smooth skin and as his fingers trailed up Castiel's arm, the angel closed his eyes. One last time, Dean touched Castiel's feathers. They were warm to the touch, a living, spectacular part of him.

"Your Dean has not seen you as I have, with your wings, Castiel? You still haven’t told him about the love you hold for him?”

Castiel's sapphire eyes opened, a solemn look coming over him. “It’s complicated,” he started, “there are events that need our full attention a lot of the time, like numerous Apocalypses, monsters and demons. And Dean is in no position right now to make any definitive decisions about… us, as we have an archangel to deal with. “

Dean touched Castiel's’ hand, allowing the feel of his skin to anchor him in this foreign plane. “It seems you need to speak honestly with each other and bare your heart open, both of you.”

Castiel smiled. “You are perceptive.”

Dean let out a small laugh. “I knew Ceonred loved me, but I thought it would be polite to wait until he mentioned those desires. I assumed he was afraid and this kind of love is not always looked upon kindly here. So one day I tired, and I tied him to my bedpost. After some squirming and taking God’s name in vain, he relented and confessed. I am a priest after all. After that event it was us. We still met in secrecy, but we knew that we had each other and that our love was true.

“So you are telling me to be honest?”

“As honest as you can. This Dean seems to be a courageous man. Since he is me?” Dean tried to speak with confidence but the truth was, trying to comprehend all that Castiel had told him about different worlds, about his soul existing in other places was overwhelming.

“Yes, you are him in an alternative time and your souls are the same so you are him. He is you but born during other circumstances and times. And Dean is more than courageous”, insisted Castiel. “If only he wouldn’t go through with this suicide plan of his to lock himself inside a box forever. Not that he would listen to something so simple as reason; when he has fixed his mind on something he is one of the most– “

It was not a conscious thought, but something that pulled at him, whether that was Ceonred, Castiel or just faith, Dean didn't know, nor did he care much to put a word to this action. All he knew was that he heard the distress in Castiel’s voice and wanted to bring him succor. He brought his lips to Castiel's mouth and kissed him softly. Remembrance washed over him, how he and Ceonred talked during late evenings, confessing deep secrets to each other, the stolen glances when surrounded by other townsfolk, the cross Ceonred had carved for him as a token of his affection.

Breaking the kiss, Dean licked his lips. “I pray he will have the blessing to see and know you, as I have, Castiel.”

“I hope so too, Dean.” As Castiel folded back his wings, Dean narrowed his eyes, shielding himself from the sudden burst of sunlight washing over them.

Castiel cocked his head to the side as if listening to secrets whispers carried to this place of solitude on winds unseen. His face became hard, resembling the features of the battle-seasoned King's soldiers Dean had seen on occasion when they passed through his village.

“I need to leave and prepare some arrangements of the medical kind and try to heal a prophet. Then Dean and I are going to have a conversation.” Turning his attention back to Dean, he grabbed the simple wooden cross in one hand, a smile playing on his lips. With the other, he touched Dean carefully on the forehead.

“Thank you for everything. I hope your next life will be one full of peace and may you see Ceonred again.”

Dean's hand clasped the angel's. “You have brought hope and purpose into my life. May your heart's desire come to fruition. I wish you well, Castiel, angel of the Lord.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

Exhaling harshly, Dean opened his eyes to see the beeswax candle burn with a soft glow, in a futile attempt to bring light to the cabin. There was no sense of time having passed but the heavy sadness in his heart told him, his mind hadn't deceived him. 

Walking over to the candle, Dean was about to extinguish the flame, when he looked down at his cross. With deliberate motions, Dean ran a thumb over the cross. Where once there was only smooth wood Dean could now feel uneven ridges; the engraved shape of a black feather.

With a smile Dean blew out the light, plunging himself and the cabin into darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> This started out with the full intention of being smutty. I haven't really read any wing kink fics but I knew that the definition is when the wings are erogenous. Fully intending to write just that, Priest!Dean and Castiel had different things in mind and this turned out to be a piece containing odd musings about time, souls and eternal companions instead. There is some wing kink there if you don't blink ; )
> 
> Alb: is a piece of clothing priests wear over their tunics when they are having service.
> 
> I was going to have Dean's last name be Wyncestre (which is a real medieval version of Winchester) but opted out. 
> 
> This piece is canon divergent to s14e12 Prophet and Loss with my headcanon being that Cas went to see a version of Dean full of faith, right before he decided to try and heal Donatello at the hospital and then try to talk to Dean afterward.


End file.
